Fixed
by SaintJames
Summary: Tim Speed goes to Boston to find himself. Actually, he finds Ryan Wolfe. Slash!


**This takes place a while ago, when Ryan was seventeen and Tim was twenty-three. I have no clue where this came from, but the idea-bunnies were very hyperactive and had a freaking orgy or something. I finally had to put this down on paper- okay, so it's not paper, but what ever. As usual, I don't own any publicly recognizable characters. I do own Sadie, but the idea for Rory came from Rory Cochrane, so technically I don't own him. Smiley face! I hope you like this. It's a long chapter for me... Reviews are welcome, very appreaciated, and make me post faster (as was the case in _Burn_). Thanks for reading! ~Callum!~  
**

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A handsome, dark-haired man with chocolate brown eyes and a five o'clock shadow sighed lightly as he ran the green-tipped paintbrush over a wooden fence. "Don't you have friends, kid?" he asked, knowing that the younger boy would be standing behind him. He always was that summer. "You've been on break for a month now and you haven't been seen with someone your own age since."

"Of course I have friends, Mr. Speedle. They've all got someplace to be, though. They aren't gonna stay in Boston all summer." The boy had light brown hair and hazel eyes that were squinted in the bright summer sun. "I'm not a kid. I'm seventeen, so treat me like it."

"And I ain't Mister Rogers, kid, so don't treat me like I am," Speedle retorted. "The name's Speed, or Tim if you prefer."

"I can work with Speed. And my name isn't _kid_, it's Ryan." Ryan crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against a tree trunk.

"I know your name, _kid_," Speed said with a smirk. "How come I don't see your dad around here? Is it just you and your mom?" Ryan bit his lip and nodded. His father had run out on them a little over a year ago. He and his secretary had gone to Arizona as soon as his mom had signed the divorce papers.

"It's just us. Dad left a while ago. That's why I'm still here in Boston; she doesn't want me abandoning her like he did." Speed nodded quietly as he painted. Ryan's mom had hired him to do odd jobs around the house for the summer in exchange for room and board.

"Listen, kid, it's still early. You help me finish this fence by noon, and I'll take you somewhere for lunch, my treat. We can even take the bike so long as you wear a helmet." Ryan nodded and took the offered spare paintbrush before he got to work.

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"Now how the hell did you get paint in your hair?" Speed asked with a laugh as they walked towards a bright yellow motorcycle. Ryan looked up, stupidly expecting to see the green in his short hair.

"I put it there on purpose," he said with a shrug. "It'll come out eventually. If not, I have awesome green hair." Ryan slid a helmet onto his head as Speed straddled the bike. The younger man carefully got on behind him and wrapped his arms around his waist. He was scared out of his mind, but found a strange pleasure in being so close to the older man.

"You're gonna have to hold on tighter than that, kid," Speed said, adjusting the boy's arms. "You ready?" Ryan nodded, not trusting himself to speak, and Speed revved the engine loudly.

When the bike came to a stop ten minutes later, Ryan found that his legs betrayed him and he fell to the grass.

"Remind me to never, ever let you drive me anywhere again!"

"You gonna walk home then?" he asked with a chuckle, pulling Ryan to his feet.

"I might, if you intend to drive that fast. You certainly live up to your name, don't you?"

"Yup. Besides, people drive like that all the time in Miami." Speed had just graduated from college in Miami and was up north to 'find himself' after- he didn't like to think about it.

"We're in Boston, dude, not Miami. People up here drive _safely_." Speed bought two ham and cheese hoagies from the fast-food place they were in and they sat down outside on the curb.

"I saw on the news that four people died last night in a car crash and two more died a week ago in a hit and run. Back home, we had less than that a _month_. Do you still think people in Boston drive safer?" Ryan thought it over.

"No, but our crime rate is lower. My aunt used to be a cop in Orlando before she moved up here."

"Yeah, well…" Speed paused, trying to think of something else to say. "It's warmer down there."

"We get snow." Ryan smirked. A brief expression of pain flashed across Speed's face, and then it was gone.

"Some people would call that a bad thing," he said quietly.

"_Everyone_ likes snow, Speed. Maybe people don't like the cold, but you'd have to be insane to not like snow."

"Not everyone likes snow, kid."

"Look, if you're gonna keep calling me kid, I'm gonna call you Mr. Rogers!" the younger man said exasperatedly, his voice loud from frustration. "And I've never met anyone who doesn't like snow."

"I don't like snow." Ryan's jaw dropped open slightly and he quickly closed it.

"Why not? You don't get snow in Florida, anyway, how would you know?"

"You get snow in the north. When you aren't used to how slippery it is, it means disaster." For a brief moment, Ryan wanted to ask what he meant, but he restrained himself. Somehow, he could tell that it was a sore subject.

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Ryan was sitting cross-legged on the hood of a broken-down car that was abandoned just outside of the property line while he watched Speed work on his bike in the driveway. "What kind is it? I'm no good with cars or anything."

"Ducati," Speed grunted. Since they were talking about snow the day before, he hadn't really said much.

"Is it good? Compared to other bikes, I mean." Speed stood up and rested one hand on the seat, staring at Ryan as if he'd grown a third arm.

"Of course it's _good_. I wouldn't have it if it wasn't." The younger man looked down at the peeling grey paint he was sitting on and carefully chipped a piece off with his fingernail.

"How come you don't like the snow, Speed?" All he got as an answer was a sigh. "I get that it's slippery and stuff, but it's really pretty if you just _look_ at it. And you can go snowboarding on it and have snowball fights and it gets you out of school… What's not to like?"

"You ever drive in the snow, kid?"

"For two winters," he replied proudly. "It does take a little while to get the hang of it, but I drive all right. Why?" Speed looked like he was about to say something, but shook his head. "I'm a stubborn person, Mr. Rogers," Ryan said, ducking to avoid the rag that was thrown at his head at the comment. "I'm just going to keep asking until you tell me."

"Like I said yesterday, when you aren't used to how slippery snow is, it means disaster." The teenager rolled his eyes and fell back so that he was lying across the hood.

"I still don't understand what you mean." A piece of paper was dropped onto Ryan's stomach and he picked it up quickly. It was a newspaper article with a picture of Speed at the top. No, it wasn't Speed. The name was different.

_Local student Rory Speedle, 23, was found dead at the scene of an accident Monday morning. Officials say he was wearing his seatbelt and that he was not under the influence of alcohol or drugs at the time of his death. Speedle's vehicle had skidded out of control due to the severe snowstorm the day before and had flipped over._

Ryan couldn't bring himself to read further and he sat up. "He was your brother?" Speed wasn't looking at him, but Ryan could tell he was upset.

The older man looked up and his face was calm, although his voice gave away the pain. "My twin."

"I'm sorry, Speed. I wish that didn't happen. I can imagine how hard it must be."

"You can't imagine, kid, nobody can. Rory- he was _me_. It's like half of me is gone, and nobody can imagine how that feels." Ryan scowled and jumped to his feet.

"I wasn't always an only child, Speedle," was all he said (whispered) before he ran for the safety of his room.

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It had been ten years, but it still hurt Ryan when the topic of his sister was brought up. They knew it was coming, and she had been sick for so long, but nothing, _nothing_, can prepare someone for a loss of that magnitude. He took a deep breath and sat down at a perfectly organized desk to open the folder that was in the top drawer. A photograph sat on top of all the other things in the folder and Ryan smiled sadly at it. A seven-year-old boy was sitting on a mound of dirt and a ten-year-old girl was showing him a frog she had found. The boy looked grossed out while the girl was giggling hysterically.

Ryan picked up a small stone from the carpet and hurled out angrily out his open window before falling onto the bed in the corner of the room. "Help me, Sadie, because I can't do this by myself." A lone tear escaped his eye as he curled into a small ball. "You're the strong one, not me." He didn't move for nearly an hour, mainly because he fell asleep, until a knock at his door jarred him awake. His first thought was _Sadie_, but he knew better. "Huh?" _You are oh so intelligent, Ryan,_ he thought as the door opened.

"Wow. You're room is really clean." Speed stood in the doorway with a plate in each hand. Ryan sat up and gestured for the older man to sit next to him.

"What's that?" Speed handed him a plate as he sat.

"Spaghetti. It's a peace offering… and the only food I know how to make."

"Thanks," the teen said quietly. "Mom's not h- damn that is good!" Speed's fork stopped halfway to his mouth as he gave Ryan a what-the-hell look. "The spaghetti is _really_ good."

"Thank you," he said with a chuckle, taking a bite of his (apparently delicious) food.

"It's true. My mom's not home yet, is she?"

"Not yet, she's still at work. Look, kid-"

"I'm not a kid, Speed!"

"Right, right. I wanted to apologize for earlier, you know, assuming…" Ryan shook his head, somehow causing his light brown (and now partially green) hair to shimmer in the quickly fading sunlight.

"It's fine. I assumed too. And I meant it, what I said about your brother. I'm sorry he's gone. It's terrible to lose someone like that." Speed nodded slowly and swallowed what was in his mouth.

"What happened to your… your-"

"My sister, Sadie. Twelve years ago, when she was eight, she was diagnosed with leukemia. When she was ten, she got a cold and, because of the chemo, she had a compromised immune system. There was nothing anyone could have done." Speed nodded and they were both at a loss of words for a long time. After a while, they set their plates on the floor and tried to say something at the exact same time, causing them both to laugh. "Go ahead."

"I was going to ask how you dealt with it. You were only, what, seven?"

"Eight. I don't know, honestly. I didn't talk to anyone for the longest time. Actually, that's not true. I would ride my bike to the cemetery all the time, and I'd talk to Sadie. Then, one day, I just kinda woke up. I had a dream and Sadie told me to grow up, which is the kind of thing she would tell me all the time. She'd say 'Grow up, Ry-Ry, because I'm gonna leave soon and Mommy's gonna need a big boy to take care of her.' And she was right, in a way. When I wouldn't talk to her… It was like she had lost both her kids in the same day. It's still hard, but I deal. I grew up. What about you, Tim, what'd you do?" Speed was surprised by the strength Ryan had, and how he could just wake up. That, and that he'd been called by his first name. Suddenly, he'd become friends with the boy six years younger than him.

"I…" The question made him think. "I drew things. I don't know how that helped, but it did." Ryan cocked his head.

"What did you draw?" Speed searched through his pockets for something and pulled out a folded paper.

"Mainly stuff like this." Ryan slowly unfolded the paper and stared at in surprise.

"This is amazing." The paper had an intricate tribal design on the top, a sleeping tiger in the middle, and an ambigram of Rory's name on the bottom half. "I draw a little bit, but no where near that good." Speed blushed slightly and slid the paper back into his pocket.

"That's nothing," he mumbled.

"Are you kidding me? That's awesome."

"No, really, it's-" He was cut off by something that even Ryan was surprised he did. "It's um… wow." Ryan leaned forward and pressed their lips together again.


End file.
